Angels and Stars
by MagpieDreamer
Summary: Ten years from the current 'DROM, Beka sets out the raise her only daughter the only way she knows how.
1. Prologue: Hannah

**Prologue: Hannah**

AN: This story ties in with my current epic 'String and Chewing Gum', and is dedicated to everyone who has ever reviewed it (there are too many of you to name, but you all know who you are, and a very special shout out to all of you for making my fic worth writing!) but you don't have to have read that for this story to make sense, as it is essentially a prequel. It will, eventually, chart certain important events within the life of Hannah Valentine, Beka's future daughter. However, much of this is Beka-centric, as she is the one raising Hannah by herself, and as the fic chart's Hannah's childhood, it chart's Beka's life, her relationships, struggles, triumphs and defeats. Hannah is a child throughout. Enjoy!

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The baby's name was Hannah.

Beka had decided that, not long ago. Decided it with as much firmness as she could, considering the situation.

Hannah was a good name. A simple, decent name. Easy to say, easy to pronounce, easy to spell. And it spelt the same thing backwards. A good name. A name for the baby.

The baby's name was Hannah.

She had red hair. Just a tuft of it. All soft, like swan's down. She'd touched it, to make sure, with a single delicate finger, careful not to hurt her, not to break her, not to wake her up. And she had a nose that turned up. She'd touched that too, ever so gently, and felt the breathing, soft and gentle, little in, little out. It made a sound, soft as her hair, a whisper in the air all around her, just beside her. And Beka knew her eyes were blue because she'd seen them, wide and true as buttons; as stars in a velvet sky; each eye ringed with a circlet of long, little lashes, that fluttered sometimes. Careful not to break her…

Her name was Hannah. The baby's name was Hannah.

Her fingers were like birch twigs. They were so long and little and perfect. Her nails were pearly and white and clean, smooth, and the balls of her feet could fit into the palm of her hand, and she made a little burbling sound if you stroked them. Her fingers held things tightly. They held the blanket she was wrapped in, all crushed in that tiny grip.

"You're name is Hannah," Beka told the child, conspiratorially, "and no one else knows you exist. Just me, and the medics, and the ship. And the medics don't know your name. You're my secret, little Hannah."

The baby who's name was Hannah slept on, sucking on her lower lip.

She had red hair. Just a tuft. A button nose that whispered, blue button eyes, birch twig fingers, and ticklish feet.

The baby's name was Hannah.

_Her baby_, she reminded herself. Her baby.


	2. Clarri

**Angels and Stars**

AN: This second chapter I actually wrote before the prologue, but something went wierd with the logging on precedure on , and it wouldn't let me upload it at the same time as the prologue, so, here it is, two days later. Enjoy!

Oenone: You'll find out about Rhade in this chapter. He's not evil, he's just... oblivious. Read and find out!

Allie: I'm glad you like it! Keep reading this and String and Chewing Gum!

Mererid: I'm glad you find String and Chewing Gum readable, and I hope you enjoy this just as much. Hope, and all the others, will get a look in later one. They all play an important part in Hannah's life, so they will all get chapters.

Andy: Yay! You're reading this! There will be action in this chapter (if by action you mean plot), so don't worry.

prin69: Ah yes, Hannah was a cute little baby. Then she got older, and developed a rather incorigable character. And, as Beka would say, it all went down hill from there!

shastalily: Here's more!

Shadow-Spider: I rock? Cool! Hope you enjoy this!

ANS4Christ: Yup, Hannah's a secret. Well, Trance knows. But Trance knows everything... ;)

Irishclover: I felt a little whimsicle writing the prologue, which might explain the poetics. Enjoy the next chapter!

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Beka didn't like planets. Never had, never would. Over-crowded, noisy, dirty and wet. All that unregulated water… how the hell did anyone manage to live like that?

But, sometimes, with the right company, she could stand a couple of hours.

"Come on, mama, I wanna see the lights!" Eight year old Hannah Valentine tugged at her mother's arm, bouncing hopefully from foot to foot.

"Alright, alright, slow down, star-girl," Beka shook her head, "it's kinda slippy down here, remember? We don't wanna go too fast."

"But _I_ do!" Hannah insisted, still bouncing up and down.

Beka smiled, still shaking her head, allowing herself to be pulled along the street by her excited daughter. This was the first time they had come to Tarazed for the new year celebrations. It was too close to home, for Beka. The chances of bumping into one of her old crew mates had been too great. But this year, Hannah had been determined to come and see for herself what this whole business of the commonwealth new year celebrations was about. She had always wanted to see the fireworks, the lights, the decorations and the special food. It was just that this year she had launched a mounting campaign starting nine months in advance and continuing with increasing determination until the event itself actually began to a occur. A week before new year, threatened with tears, temper tantrums, pouting and much foot stamping, Beka had caved.

Now it was new year's eve, and here they were, in the cold streets of the capitol city of Tarazed, Hannah dressed in her new furry winter boots, hat and gloves, her favourite coat zipped up round her neck, rainbow striped woolly tights under her blue suede, fur trimmed skirt; Beka wrapped in her warmest coat and trousers, wearing the rainbow striped hat and gloves Hannah had presented her with on her birthday.

Beka made sure she kept a firm hold on her daughter's gloved hand. Losing the little girl in this crowd would be far too easy.

Hannah wasn't sure where she was going. She was following her nose, after something sweet and warm smelling that was drifting their way down the crowded high street. She looked up, watching the bright decorative lights flashing in the growing evening dusk, then held up her doll, Clarri, so she could look too. "See the pretty lights, Clarri?"

"Hannah, honey, I don't think this is the best place to stop and show Clarri the pretty lights," Beka told her daughter. They were already getting irritated glances from hurried members of the public jostling past them.

"Can we get some hot toffee?" Hannah asked, ignoring her mother. "Clarri would like some hot toffee."

Beka blinked. They were standing not three feet from a street stall, selling melted toffee. She laughed, looking at her daughter in amusement, "you little sugar snatching mouse-child!"

"I think Clarri really, really wants some hot toffee," Hannah repeated, stubbornly.

Beka gave the child a reproving look, "do you have any idea what that stuff will do to your teethe, young lady?"

"Yes!" Hannah cried, "it will rot them into a thousand pieces and melt them and turn them into black jelly and all I'll be able to eat is soup. But it's not for me, it's for Clarri, and she doesn't have any teeth!"

Beka crouched down to look her daughter squarely in the eye, "honey, Clarri doesn't actually have a _mouth_. I doubt she's going to be able to eat any hot toffee."  
Hannah stuck out her lower lip and crossed her arms. "You're making Clarri really sad, mama."

"Sad, huh?" Beka raised an eyebrow, and took the Clarinthian angel doll from her daughter, inspecting it with a critical eye, "well, you know, I've known Clarri for a long, long time. Longer than you have. And I'm telling you now, angels don't get sad, especially over hot toffee."  
Hannah frowned at her mother, drawing her eyebrows together over her bright blue eyes. She knew she was beaten. "Still want the toffee," she muttered, turning away.

Beka shook her head. She'd buy Hannah something sweet, (though preferably not as tooth-decaying), later. On being dumped rather unexpectedly into parenthood some nine years previously, Beka had set herself a few simple rules when it came to raising her daughter;

1. I will not lie to my child.

2. I will never, ever abandon my child.

3. I will only cave in to her requests a maximum of once a day, twice on holidays.

Thus Beka went about attempting to bring Hannah into adulthood. And, since she had already caved majorly that week by allowing Hannah to talk her into coming here in the first place, she considered her daughter's favours officially used up.

"Let's go and see the ice gardens," Beka suggested, distracting Hannah from the idea of hot toffee.

"Okay…" Hannah was still looking sulky, but, although she could hold down a grudge for some time, Beka doubted her daughter would stay particularly sullen for long.

True to form, the little girl perked up considerably as they began to move again. The ice gardens were not much of a walk away, and free to enter, which suited Beka, and the pretty shapes and lights fascinated Hannah.

"Look, look!" Hannah pointed at one ice carving in particular, "a class niner star cruiser! They're the fastest in the galaxy! Neeow!" The latter phrase was illustrated with swift flying movements as Hannah attempted to demonstrate the speed of a class niner.

"Ah, we could go faster," Beka waved a hand nonchalantly.

"Mama," Hannah gave her mother a serious look, "_no one_ goes faster than a class niner. It's a fizzyal impossibility."

"You mean physical impossibility," Beka corrected, hiding a smile, "and you wanna bet? Our Maru could get faster than those flash little toys any day."

"I'll bet you some hot toffee," Hannah offered, looking hopeful.

Beka rolled her eyes, "you never give up, do you, star-girl? Come on. I thought you wanted to see the ice angels?"

"Oh, yeah, the ice angels!" Hannah looked suddenly excited, "I forgot about them! Let's go see them now, can we? Can we?_ Please_?"

"Alright, star-girl," Beka laughed. "They're this way, if I remember."

The ice angels were indeed a sight to behold. Three tall, elegant figures, all carved out of ice, looking down at the crowds around them with serene, frozen faces, with several smaller angels stood at their feet, like children in the protective shadow of their parents. The small ones were all in delicate poses; one appeared to be dancing, one cradling a baby, one pointing upwards, another in the process of leaping into the air. The three watching giant angels stood over them. One was preying, looking skywards. One had one arm held out, the other crossed over it, carefully arranged into the Wayist sign for peace. The final one had both arms held out in silent embrace, looking forward at those around it, welcoming.

Beka smiled in silent recollection of the memory's she had PH (Pre-Hannah), of coming here with the wrest of the Andromeda crew for the New Year celebrations. Harper in particular had been fascinated by the angels. He would stand and stare at them for hours.

"Hope, Peace and Love," Beka named them, for Hannah's benefit, "the old guardians. The others are Joy, Determination, Maternity and Freedom, if I remember rightly."

"They're pretty," Hannah said, standing on tip toe to see over the wall that kept the exhibit separate from the crowds. Aware of her daughter's diminutive stature, Beka slipped her arms beneath the girl's shoulders and hoisted her up to kneel on the wall, giving her a far better view. Hannah held Clarri up, "look, Clarri! It's your family!"

Beka smiled, taking a little pleasure from the simple happiness of her child. They stayed where they were for a few minutes, until Hannah's attention began to wonder, and Beka felt the cold creeping into her clothes. "What would you say to something warm to drink?" She asked the girl.

Hannah grinned, "hello, something warm to drink."  
Beka laughed, rolling her eyes, "alright, smarty pants. Shall we go and find something warm to drink so you can say hello to it?"

"Okay," Hannah didn't protest.

They walked a little way, letting the crowds carry them until they found a café at the edges of the ice gardens, and went inside to the warm, inviting environment. Shedding hats, gloves and coats, they sat at a table, and Beka left Hannah to go to the counter and order two hot chocolates and two muffins.

Between mouthfuls of muffin and hot chocolate, Hannah went into a long and complicated explanation as to 'why I was right about coming here and you were wrong so nah-nah-ne-nah-nah.' Beka listened to this lecture with the patience of a parent who had undergone many of the same in her time, and managed to hide her grin long enough to look suitably demure. Hannah pulled off her sweater, leaving her in a sleeveless, blue, fleecy T-shirt, her bare arms suddenly viewable.

Inwardly, Beka flinched at the sight of the tiny bony bumps along her daughter's arms, the ones that would eventually grow into bone blades, a the harsh reminder of Hannah's father.

Hannah seemed not to notice, absently running a hand over the bumps, before picking up her muffin again, and chewing thoughtfully, before remarking, "mama, before, you didn't want us to come here, 'cause you were 'fraid we'd find my daddy, weren'tcha?"

Beka froze. "What?"

"You were 'fraid we'd find my daddy if we came here," Hannah repeated, in the tone of a teacher repeating a lesson to a very stupid child.

Beka took a few seconds to digest the astonishing piece of insight her daughter had just dumped into her lap. How had Hannah worked that out? How had she come so very, very close to the truth? Hannah didn't know who her father was. They had never discussed it. Hannah never asked, and Beka didn't want to initiate the conversation. In fact, apart from a single question when she was five, to confirm that her father was in fact Nietzschean, Hannah had never shown any interest in where the other half of her genes had come from.

And yet, here she was stating at least half of the truth Beka had thought she had managed to keep her child safe from. "Since when did you get so perceptive?" She demanded.

Hannah grinned, pleased with herself, "'s'true though, ain't it?"

"Alright," Beka agreed. She had promised herself never to lie to her daughter. She could omit certain truths until the girl was old enough to hear them, or asked, but she would never lie if asked a direct question. "Yes. I didn't want us to come here, because I was worried that we might bump into your father."

"An' he don't know 'bout me." Hannah added, matter-of-factly. "An' you don't want him to know. Or you don't want me to know. I think maybe he was a bad, bad man, or he did somethin' terrible, and you're 'fraid for me to find out, 'cause you think it would upset me. Or maybe you don't want him to know, 'cause you don't want him to take me. Or maybe 'cause I's a mix-up-blood, with a half Nietzschean an' a half normal." She spoke carefully, remembering the speech she had been making up in her head for the past two days. She knew she had to say it just right, so her mama would listen and understand. She didn't want mama to get angry, or think that Hannah was angry. It all had to be done carefully and clearly, to stop any mix ups.

Beka stared at her daughter, stunned. Where had all this come from, all of a sudden? Hannah had never once mentioned her father, and she had been naive enough to think this meant the little girl wasn't thinking about him. "Hannah…" she began, just as carefully and slowly as her daughter had done, "do you want to know… about your father?"

"I'd like to know _some things_," Hannah offered. "Is he 'live?"

"As far as I know," Beka answered.

"Why don'tcha want me to know 'bout him?" Hannah asked, "or you don't want him to know 'bout me? Does he know 'bout me?"

"No." Beka answered. That she could be fairly sure of, so long as Trance had kept her word never to tell. "I never told him."

"Why?" Hannah asked.

Such a simple, innocent question. Yet the answer was so complicated. How could Beka explain to her daughter the circumstances of her conception? How could she tell her child that she was an accident? The result of a clumsy, rather drunken union between two people in the middle of a battle that both knew (at the time, anyway) would see the end of them. How could she explain the panic, the knowledge she carried a tiny, helpless person within her, and that they both could be killed at any minute? How could she explain that last, desperate flight, abandoning her friends, her family, the father of her child, right when they needed her the most, to save the life of her unborn daughter? How could she explain the shame, and the guilt, at having done what to everyone else would look like the wrong thing? How could she explain that feeling, those terrible few months on the Maru, living in the certainty that her friends were all dead? How could she explain that it was that shame, and that pride, that made her unable to face her old crew mates now, even though she knew they were alive, and had been looking for her?

How could she explain that Hannah herself was the source of her guilt?

"I didn't have time," Beka answered.

"You were in a hurry?" Hannah raised her eyebrows.

Beka sighed. _Okay, here comes the messy stuff… _"I… we… were in the middle of a battle. A terrible, bloody battle. A lot of people were dieing. I thought… I was going to die. We all thought we were going to die. And I was okay with that, because I knew I would die for a good cause, and besides, I didn't really have a way out… but then I found out I was pregnant with you. And I knew I had to _make_ a way out. Because I couldn't stay there, and die. I had to save you. I had to get away so we'd both live. So I ran. I took the Maru, and I left. At the time I… wasn't even sure your father was still alive. I couldn't find him to tell him, and I couldn't wait for him. So I left."

"To save me?" Hannah asked.

"To save you." Beka nodded.

"And you don't want my daddy to know 'bout me 'cause you're… 'shamed of running 'way?" Hannah guessed.

"A little, yeah." Beka had to agree.

"But… you were running away to protect me…" Hannah was carefully making sure she had everything straight in her mind before coming to any conclusions on her mother's actions. "So… wouldn't that make it okay…?"

"It's… complicated." Beka leaned back in her chair, her light eyes suddenly dark with shadows of the past. "I didn't know what to do, Hannah. I was scared and… alone, really. The only person who knew was our medical officer, Trance. She was my friend, too. And she told me this was a decision I had to make on my own. It was a… destiny thing. In the end I… I did what I had to, to make sure my child, you, survived. But it meant leaving my friends and they… they were my family. I abandoned them. And sometimes… I still don't know whether I did the right thing. I mean, I, we, might have survived had we stayed."

"But we might not have," Hannah added. "You made certain we did."

"I know." Beka nodded. "And I'm glad. I'm glad because I can't imagine not having you, Hannah. You're my daughter, and the thought of having died and never known you it's… it's close to unbearable. I'm glad I saved you, you have to understand that."

"But you're still 'shamed of running away." Hannah finished. "And that's why you don't wanna tell my daddy 'bout me. Or your other friends. 'Cause you would have to face 'em again, and you think they'd be angry."

"Yeah." Beka smiled slightly.

"I wouldn't be angry, mama," Hannah decided, "if I were them, I wouldn't be angry of you for running', if you told me 'bout me and how you wanted to save me. I'd understand."

Beka managed a dry smile, "sometimes I wish the world were like you, star-girl."

"Me too." Hannah grinned, "then it would be new year, all year round, and we'd only ever eat hot toffee and muffins!"

Beka laughed, and shook her head, "whatever you say, star-girl. Now, finish your hot chocolate. The fire works will be starting soon."

They were stepping out of the café, dressed once more in their jumpers and jackets, when someone called after them.

"'Scuse me!"

Beka and Hannah looked round, to see a small Nietzschean boy in only a T. shirt and trousers, running out of the café after them. One side of his face was completely obscured by a thick dressing, shielding what must be some kind of terrible, if recent, burn. In his hands, he held Clarri. "You forgot this." He scurried up to Hannah and politely offered the doll back to her.

Hannah squealed, quickly taking her toy, "Clarri! I nearly forgot you!" The horror of what might nearly have occurred dawned on her, and she hugged the angel tightly to her chest.

"Say thank you, Hannah," Beka reminded her daughter.

Hannah peeped at the boy over Clarri's hair, "thank you."

The boy was probably a little younger than Hannah herself, and it was clear now he had carried out his task, he wasn't entirely sure what to do. "Um… that's okay." He scratched at the bandages around his face, shifting nervously.

Out of the café, someone else came hurrying, calling after the boy, "Trident? Trident! Come back, it's freezing out here! Why did you…" but the man trailed off as he caught sight of who his son was standing with, and Beka felt her insides suddenly go solid, because she recognised him.

"Telemachus." The word came out as a half-stifled yelp.

"Beka…" Rhade looked torn between astonishment and happiness. A smile was trying to form itself around his mouth, but his eyes were too full of confusion to make room for it.

Trident, the little boy, was too intent on trying to get himself out of trouble to realise that his father was suddenly uninterested. "It's okay, dad, I was just trying to give the doll back, they were going to go, and if I'd waited they might have gone forever, I was going to come back straight away, honest…" he trailed off, frowning as he peered at his father's face, "dad? Hey, dad?"

Hannah rolled her eyes, "he's not listening to you, dumb-o."

Trident blinked in confusion, "what's going on?"

Hannah sighed, impatiently, assuming the air of a bored school prefect attempting to explain a rule to a much younger, stupider pupil, "it's a grown-up thing. They get distracted and tune you out for a couple of seconds. Stamp on his foot, that'll get him moving again. Or cry. That always works for me."

Trident was not entirely sure either of these options was a particularly good idea. He looked at his dad again, then up at this woman he seemed to know, then back, then ran to his dad's side. "Come on, dad, I'm cold!"  
This plaintive moan seemed to force Telemachus back to earth somewhat, and he knelt down, producing Trident's coat, which he'd taken with him out of the café, "here, put this on." He helped his son pull the jacket on and deftly did up the zip for him, although Trident prided himself on being able to do that himself, and was somewhat offended at being treated like a little kid. "Aw, get off, dad."

Beka watched the little seen in a kind of surreal daze. She was standing in front of the man who had slowly become one of her dearest friends, a man she hadn't seen in around nine years since abandoning him for dead in the middle of a battle with the Magog, a man who clearly now had a son of his own, and was, coincidently, the father of her child.

Well, this was awkward.

"Mama?" Hannah tugged at Beka's sleeve, "who's he?"

Beka looked swiftly from her daughter to her daughter's father, for one wild moment of panic wondering whether Rhade would be able to tell Hannah was his, before realising that that was pretty much impossible, so long as the child kept her arms safely beneath her jacket. "Um… Hannah, this is… Telemachus Rhade. We… we used to work together. Rhade… this is Hannah." _Our daughter_.

Rhade ran a hand through his hair, the smile finally winning over the confusion. He approached Beka carefully, as if afraid she'd run away, before looking closely at Hannah. "Hi, Hannah."  
Hannah put her arms around her mother, suddenly shy, "hey."  
Rhade's smile suddenly grew as he looked at Beka, "your… your…Jesus, Beka, she looks just like you!"  
Beka had to smile at that, placing a hand on Hannah's head, "yeah, well, like mother like daughter, huh star-girl?"  
Hannah seemed to loose her shyness. She never clung to it for long, "yup, yup, spit and spit, stick and stick!"

"And um," Rhade took his son's hand, "this is Trident. Trident, this is Beka. I told you about her, remember?"

The boy nodded, still scratching at the bandages on his face. Rhade took his wrist to stop him. "Hey."

"What happened to your face?" Hannah asked, with her usual tact.

Beka groaned, inwardly, "Hannah!"

"What?" Hannah looked at her innocently, "'s-just asking."

"'Splosion." Trident surprised both Beka and Rhade by answered, waving his arm to demonstrate. "Big one."

"Oh." Hannah pondered this. "So… what? Half your face fell off?"

"_Hannah_!" Beka was mortified on her daughter's behalf, but Trident didn't seem to mind. In truth, it was nice to have someone who just seemed openly curious and asked, instead of staring all the time but not saying anything.

"All the skin got burnt off, an' the new skin has to grow back under it," he explained.

"Cool!" Hannah looked suitably fascinated, "can I see?"

"Okay," Trident began to tug at the dressing on his face, but Rhade quickly stopped him.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, tiger. Let's leave it on for now, okay?"

Trident looked disappointed, "aw, but dad!"

"No buts," Rhade shook his head, "you know what the doctors said would happen if it got infected, don't you? You don't want it to get all swollen now."

Trident sighed, "I know."

Hannah tugged anxiously at her mother's hand, "mama, the fireworks!"

"Okay, star-girl, hold your horses, we're not going to miss them." Beka reassured her.

"They can come with us to see the fireworks, right dad?" Trident asked, looking up at his father.

Rhade felt a little awkward. On the one hand, he wasn't sure whether Beka would want them around. She was clearly nervous of his presence, and given the circumstances of their last 'encounter', he wasn't surprised. On the other hand, Trident hadn't been this lively looking since before the attack in which he had witnessed his mother killed, losing half his face to terrible burns, and Rhade was loath to loose the sudden enthusiasm for life his son was quite unexpectedly displaying. "Well, if Beka doesn't mind…"

"She doesn't mind!" Hannah promptly decided, before her mother could protest, "come on! We don't wanna be late!" And she set off, pulling her mother with her, leaving the others little choice but to follow.

Beka raised a resigned eyebrow at Rhade, "they always know best, I guess."

"I wouldn't argue with _you_, Beka," Rhade told her, "I'm hardly going to attempt it with your child."

_Our child, _Beka mentally corrected him, before shaking her head to rid herself of the thought. She couldn't keep thinking like that. Rhade had his own son, and clearly that child came with his own set of problems. He probably had a wife, too… maybe even several, knowing Nietzscheans. Did she really have the right to disrupt that by bringing Hannah into the equation? _Too late,_ her inner voice told her, coldly, _Hannah's already in the equation. You're just the only one who knows it._

Beka was torn. Hannah had a right to a father, or at least the knowledge of who that father was. She had a right to the side of her heritage that Beka couldn't provide. At the same time, some small selfish part of her wanted to keep Hannah. She was _her_ daughter, _her _baby, she'd carried her for nine months by herself, given birth by herself and raised her by herself, and she didn't want anyone else taking away the happy little existence she'd carved for the pair of them.

On top of that, if Hannah ever found out who her father was, and that they had actually met, which, Beka knew deep down, she eventually would, she feared her daughter would never forgive her for not saying anything.

Sooner or later, probably with the onset of puberty, Hannah was going to demand the knowledge of who her father really was, and some means of contacting him. When that time came, there'd be trouble.

Beka was abruptly taken out of her dire musings by a sharp pain in her foot.

"Mama! Pay attention!"

Beka blinked in surprise, "did you just stamp on my toe?"

"Well you weren't listening!" Hannah told her, folding her arms.

"Hannah, I've told you not to do that!" Beka reprimanded, although she couldn't quite keep the amused glint out of her eyes.

Hannah pointed, "we're here, though!"

They were indeed.

The fireworks could be seen from just about anywhere in the capital of Tarazed, but the best vantage point was where the stands stood just outside of the ice gardens. Crowds were already gathering, jostling and pushing. Rhade had automatically picked Trident up to keep him from getting lost, for he was small for his age, and he was (perhaps not unreasonably) determined now more than ever to protect his son. Beka kept a tight grip on Hannah's hand, and looked for a clearer spot.

Hannah found it for them. Dragging her mother along, she made a beeline for the concrete base of a flood light. It was large enough to have several people stand on it, and stood at the average person's waist height. "Up there, mama!" Hannah pointed, as they arrived.

Beka grinned, "there's my star girl." She took Hannah at the waist and lifted her up onto the concrete platform, "up we go!"

Hannah squealed and danced around in her boots. "_I'm the queen of the castle_!" She sang, smugly.

"Me too! Me too!" Trident struggled out of his father's arms and onto the base, jumping up and down.

Hannah giggled, "you can't be queen, dummy! You're a _guy_!"

"I'm _king_ of the castle!" Trident proclaimed, sticking out his chest.

Beka gave Rhade a grin. "You ever king of the castle at their age, Rhade?"

"I found myself happier as knight," Rhade answered, mildly. "I was a dragon hunter."

"Me too," Beka agreed.

Rhade made an exaggerated bow and offered his arm, "shall I help you up, m'lady?"

"Certainly, kind sir." Beka swept her own bow, took his arm, and allowed herself to be helped onto the concrete bass.

Hannah laughed, grabbing her mother's sleeve to stop her falling, "silly!"

Trident held out his hands to his father, "come on, dad! Hurry up!"

Rhade reached up, "pull me up then, tiger!"

Trident grasped his father's arm as tightly as he could and hauled backwards. Hannah grabbed onto Trident's coat in an attempt to help, and Beka, seeing them all about to go toppling over, grabbed Rhade's other arm to steady him.

Between them, Rhade was pulled up onto the stone island, stumbling slightly so that only Beka's furious counterbalancing prevented them both coming off.

"Careful!" Hannah yelped. "You nearly crushed Clarri!"

"Sorry, Clarri," Beka dutifully apologised to the doll.

Rhade smirked, and Beka raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"  
The Nietzschean shrugged, "nothing. I just never picture you…"

"What?" Beka frowned, "with a kid?"

Rhade smiled, "apologising to a clarinthian angel doll."

Beka shook her head, "things change, Telemachus."

"So I see." He tipped his head to one side.

"Mama, mama, look!" Hannah pointed upwards, as the first bright streaks of light plunged upwards, the sound taking a few seconds longer to reach them. Hannah held Clarri up, "see the fireworks, Clarri?"

Trident held tightly to his father's hand, "when the golden flower goes off, that means it's the new year."

"And then everybody says yippee, and hugs, and drinks lots of beer." Hannah added, knowledgably.

"You've been watching the holonet again, haven't you?" Beka asked her daughter, dryly.

Hannah nodded, enthusiastically.

As the bright lights swirled and exploded over head, Hannah and Trident yelled and pointed, each trying to out-do each other over the noise. Rhade kept an eye on his son, watching for any signs of panic or flashback. He had been worried that all the noise would bring back memories of the attack in which Trident had lost so much.

But Trident was distracted, hopping around with Hannah, playing fighter pilots, pretending to be shooting down enemy fire, or that they were in someway in control of the stars, making them dance.

In the flashing gloom, Beka edged closer to Rhade. She was beginning to wonder whether she would get a kiss out of him at midnight. She was also kicking herself for thinking such thoughts.

"_Beka_!" Rhade called her name over the noise of the fire works.

"_What_?" Beka answered, frowning.

"_Do you feel like coming back with us to the Andromeda_?" Rhade yelled, barely making himself heard.

"_What_?!" Beka couldn't hear him.

"I _said_…" But Rhade was again drowned out by a series of explosions over head, which sent Hannah and Trident whooping with delight.

"It's nearly midnight!" Trident told Hannah, pointing at the huge glowing clock illuminated at the top of a watch tower off to their lip.

"_What_?!" Hannah yelled back.

"_Midnight_!" Trident repeated, "_nearly__ there_!"

"Right!" Hannah agreed.

As if to confirm this, there was a high pitched whistling sound, cutting through all other noise, and a bright golden light shot up into the blackness. It looked like a miniature comet, lighting the night sky like a sun, casting strange silvery light across the crowd.

"_Cool_!" Hannah's cry of delight could only just be heard.

The firework soared up, making those below crane their necks, and, in some cases, lean right back, to see it. And, just as it reached the peak of it's flight, it exploded with a resounding boom, making the very ribs of the audience vibrate. The light seemed to shatter into a thousand pieces, streaking across the sky, showing down in a rain of golden fire, whitening the black sky.

The crowd whooped and roared. It was new year.

"Yay! Yay! Yipee!" Hannah leapt up and down.

"New year, happy new year!" Trident joined in.

Beka swept Hannah up into a firm embrace, "happy new year, star-girl!"

"Happy new year, mamma!" Hannah hugged her back, giggling.

Trident allowed his father to lift him off his feet, "I'll be eight tomorrow, dad!"

"Happy new year, tiger!" Trident replied, laughing. "I'll say happy birthday tomorrow, alright?"

As the crowd cheered and whistled, the fireworks exploding all around them, and Hannah and Trident danced a merry jig around the pole of the flood light, Beka raised an eyebrow at Rhade, and tipped her head to one side. Rhade held out his hand to her, "happy new year, Rebecca."

Beka took his hand, then, throwing caution to the winds, reached out and flung her arms around his neck. "Happy new year, Telemachus."  
He tightened his grip around her, breathing in the oddly familiar sent of engine oil and soap. "We missed you, Beka."

"Aw, don't get mushy on me, Rhade," she rolled her eyes.

They parted slightly, Rhade regarding her with serious eyes for a few seconds, "Rebecca…"

"Don't call me that," Beka would have turned away at that point, had Rhade not kept firm hold of her and managed to kiss her to prevent her moving.

It lasted a little longer than either intended.

"Eeew!" Hannah interrupted them with a sound of total and utter disgust. "Y-_uck_!"

"Cooties!" Trident yelped, leaping back.

Hannah gave him an equally disgusted look, "don't be stupid, dumb ass. There's no such thing, and even if there were, you couldn't get 'em like that. It's just gross, not 'fectious."

"There are too such thing as cooties!" Trident argued.

"Yeah, like, a thousand years ago!" Hannah rolled her eyes.

Beka pulled away from Rhade to chastise her daughter, "Hannah, you shouldn't call people that."

"Dumb ass?" Hannah gave her mother a surprisingly innocent look, "but you called that poll collector one yesterday when he caught us trying to sneak in without paying…"

Rhade snorted with laughter, and Beka smacked him across the chest. "Don't encourage her. And Hannah, don't the words, 'do as I say, not as I do', mean anything to you?"

"Nope!" Hannah grinned her most irritating grin, then yawned, "can we go home now?"

Beka looked around. The fireworks were still going on, but the crowds were draining out, either going back to bed or on to bigger, better street parties in the centre of Tarazed. If Hannah didn't get to bed soon she'd be grouchy in the morning, which was never a good thing, and she knew they needed to get away from Rhade, or he'd end up convincing her to go back with him, see the Andromeda, the crew…

"We can walk you back to your ship," Rhade offered.

"Okay!" Hannah agreed before her mother could protest, "come on, mamma!"

Beka let Hannah jump down off the concrete island, then followed her down. Rhade jumped then lifted Trident after him.

Together, the four of them made a careful and steady way back across the ice gardens, to Tarazed and beyond. Hannah was high as a kite, and it was rubbing off on Trident, because of the pair of them were bouncing around like space hoppers on flash as they went. Beka glanced at Rhade as they moved. He was laughing to himself at the exploits of his son -_and daughter_-, looking very… safe, in the glow of neon and star light.

_It could be like this…_

Beka pondered the possibility with a longing that she knew probably went back to a childhood of absent and inadequate parents. She wanted the idyllic future; that happy, simple mommy, daddy, big sister, little brother and bouncing baby. So peaceful… so easy…

Such complete tripe.

Beka gave herself a mental shake. It wasn't going to happen. It couldn't anyway. At best, Rhade would probably be a part time father for Hannah, and they would never be able to live together. And Trident had to have a mother, Rhade's wife… the possibility made her insides knot and she swiftly shirked the pang of jealousy that welled in her stomach. This was insane, and stupid, and how had they gotten into this in the first place, anyway?

If Hannah hadn't insisted on bringing Clarri, none of this would have happened. Stupid angel doll.

Hannah was making Clarri fly around her head, laughing as Trident chased her, making 'brrm! Brrrrrrooom!' noises, flapping his arms, pretending to be a slip fighter. And it suddenly struck Beka that they were brother and sister. Half siblings, perhaps, but still siblings. Trident wasn't that much younger than Hannah was. A year at the most… Hannah would have liked another kid to boss around, Beka knew. It had to get boring just telling your mom what to do after a while, especially as, as an adult, she could refuse orders as often as she liked. And Trident didn't seem to mind being ordered about.

The Maru crouched, as it had done as they left it, in the shadows of Tarazed's main landing dock. Hannah seemed to have changed her mind about wanting to go home, and moaned pitifully, but Beka wanted away as fast as possible. She couldn't let Rhade pull their existence out from under them… she just couldn't.

"Beka…" Rhade seemed ready to make one last attempt.  
  
Taking advantage of the momentary loss of parental observation, Hannah and Trident took off under the Maru, playing a furious game of tag.

"Rhade, don't ask me to come back with you," Beka sighed, folding her arms.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm gonna say no."

"Why?"

"You bug me."

Rhade smirked in the gloom, then shook it off. "Beka, please. Dylan… he… he needs to see you. And Harper will want to, and Rommie… they, we, all miss you."

"Stop it, you're killing me," Beka deadpanned.

Rhade frowned, "don't, Beka. Listen to me. Dylan… Dylan isn't himself lately. Seeing you… it might do him some good. If anyone could knock a little sense into him, it would be you."

"Can't Trance do it?" Beka asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rhade shook his head, "she left, not long after you did."

"Really?" Beka felt surprised. She had encountered Trance several times on her travels, but the golden woman had been as mysterious as she ever was, and, though it was apparent that something had changed, Beka had gotten no impression that Trance had actually_ left_ the company of the crew. "Just… upped and left?"

"Apparently so." Rhade shrugged, "one morning she was there and the next… she wasn't. Trance-like, I suppose."

"I guess…" Beka frowned. Should she tell Rhade that she'd met with the alien in question?

"Her absence has affected Dylan greatly," Rhade looked tired suddenly, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I never realised before how much he relied on her for support."

"Yeah…" Beka was furiously going through her various meetings with Trance, trying to find some clue… something… something she couldn't quite pin about the woman's manner… that strange… nervous, swift, hurried manner… the observant way she took in everything… the way she had always seemed desperate to get away by the end of their encounters… as if she had something to get back to… something… or someone…

"Beka, please…" Rhade interrupted her thought process, "at least, come and see Dylan. It would do him good. And Harper's… Harper's growing his own child! You should see it, Beka, he has this… this baby, growing in a tank… he made it from his own stem cells and inserted artificial parts. It's like an android only… human, you have to see it!"

Beka's eyebrows shot up. Well, that was interesting.

But no. No. Not going to happen. It couldn't and wouldn't happen. "We have to go, Rhade."

His face fell. "Isn't there any way… I mean, can't we see you again?"  
Beka shrugged, trying to shake off the growing pit of guilt weighing down her stomach, "One of these days, maybe, we'll come see you."

_Hannah'll come looking for you, anyway, eventually. _

He sighed, apparently realising that was all he was going to get. "Okay. I'll… I'll see you around, Rebecca." He turned away, calling for his son, "come on, Trident! We're going!"

The boy came up, looking disappointed, "awww, but dad…"

"Come on, tiger, no use sticking around in the cold." Rhade lifted his son up.

Hannah slid her finger's into her mother's hand. "We gonna see them again, mama?"

Beka shrugged, "sometime, maybe."

Hannah clutched Clarri to her tightly and looked dejected.

Beka felt the weight in her stomach grow bigger. "Telemachus!" She called him back before she could think about it, the words seeming to appear of their own accord.

He looked back, halfway across the landing dock.

So many things she could have yelled at him. So many things she wanted to say, to tell him, laugh at him, cry, scream._ She's your daughter, you idiot! Remember that night nine years ago during the Reckoning battle with the Magog when we got really, really drunk? Yeah, well, guess how **that** turned out!_

"It was nice seeing you," she said, simply. Because she could say nothing else.

He smiled in the gloom, "nice seeing you too, Beka."

Then they were gone, into the darkness.

Hannah shivered, "he's Nietzschean, like me, ain't he, mama?"

Beka nodded, "yeah, he's Nietzschean, star-girl."  
Hannah put her thumb into her mouth, "wish he were my daddy, mama."  
  
Beka closed her eyes for a second, and breathed in the cold night air. _I will not lie to my daughter._

"Say that again when you're older, Hannah," she whispered, softly, so the girl hardly heard. "Just… say it to me again when you're older."

Hannah just hugged her doll.


End file.
